Saturday, April 30, 2011
The Only Reason He Hasn't Killed Himself Is He Can't Figure Out A Way To Do It With Pudding
Thought I was alone in this prescribed pill prison but asexual reproduction gave me the cliched horror child chained to my chest and he's blacker than the empty space that fills my veins from time to time.
Labels:
Anger,
Depression,
frustration,
prose,
psychoetry,
rant,
suicide
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment